


I Drove All Night

by The_Bentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Heavy Petting, Hotel Sex, In the Form of Wrestling, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Kissing, Light BDSM, M/M, Mention of Queen Songs, Pining, Road Trips, Sex, The Bentley Is Slightly Sentient (Good Omens), The Bentley Ships It (Good Omens), Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Crowley allowed the Bentley to do most of the driving, being caught up by his daydreams about holding Aziraphale in his arms as he stared out at the road before him.  He could almost feel his heart beating against his own.  It intensified the feelings of longing.When Aziraphale has to spend a week away from London, Crowley can't handle being without him.  It's time for a road trip.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 221
Collections: Hot Omens





	I Drove All Night

**Author's Note:**

> There I was, listening to '80s music on shuffle because I was in a weird mood when Cyndi Lauper's version of _I Drove All Night_ started to play. My muse made an appearance and this little short story was born.

Crowley didn't hang around the nightclubs for hours like usual lately. An unprecedented heat wave had hit London, making the weather unbearable even for him. He had spent over a thousand years living on this damp little island, so he had gotten quite used to cooler temperature variations that didn’t include so much oppressiveness in the air. Heat was rare enough few even had air conditioning here.

The clubs were unbearable with their press of hot bodies and stickiness. He sat at the bar of one, music thumping annoyingly around him as he finished the drink he ordered. Normally he’d be on the dance floor pretending he knew what he was doing when it came to dancing, looking for prime targets to tempt. One irritated drunk had the ability to ruin a lot of people’s nights. 

Slamming his glass down, which caused the bartender to yell at him about being careful before he broke something, he prepared to head out. Taking the irritated reprimand of him as a sign, Crowley looked the bartender in the eye and pushed the glass right off the edge of the bar where it shattered almost right on the man’s feet. Hopefully that vexed the bartender enough he’d pass around his bad mood until closing time. 

“Hey! I could’ve been cut!” he yelled to Crowley’s back, but it was useless.

The demon didn’t hear what the bartender yelled at him as he melted into the crowd, nor would he have cared had he caught what was said. Other club employees were called in to hunt him down and throw him out, but Crowley was first, already leaving and second, impossible to locate if he didn’t want to be found.

He pushed through the glass door, pondering making it extremely hard to open just to piss off more drunk people, minutely adding to the misery spreading through the city thanks to the heat wave. Nobody could truly get comfortable tonight. He didn’t bother.

Instead he walked around the corner, vanished the alcohol from his bloodstream and sought out the Bentley. It was parked about a block down in a spot previously not meant to be parked in. Such inconveniences happened to other people. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he sat there a moment wondering what to do with himself. Finally he decided to just head home to sleep, but not before the Bentley developed its own air conditioner complete with plenty of vents to blow cool air on Crowley. He sighed with relief as the sweat evaporated from his temples and off his black tee-shirt. 

_So much better._

He pulled out into traffic, arranging things so he could speed along at ninety miles per hour without causing damage to his precious Bentley. Automatically, he headed to Soho, like he always did when he got bored with the nightlife early, his decision to just drive home forgotten. It wasn’t like Aziraphale slept and sometimes he didn’t mind the company.

It was about a ten-minute drive to the bookshop, the Bentley soon pulling up into the space in front of Aziraphale’s doors. The place was dark, though. Crowley smacked his own forehead, feeling stupid now.

_Shit. Forgot he was away on a mission._

Shutting the car off, he got out and entered the locked shop with a snap of his fingers. Shutting it with another snap, he stood alone under the oculus beside a table filled with newly received books lovingly piled in an attractive display. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his other senses, feeling Aziraphale's presence here even though he was gone. The bookshop smelled of him – old books, the musk of the cologne he wore, the cocoa he drank and the general, indescribable scent of goodness. Crowley breathed it in, missing his angel. 

He walked to the backroom where he curled up on the old couch, comforted somewhat by the familiar surroundings of a place so loved by Aziraphale. This bookshop was a second home to him and the one place Hell couldn’t find him due to the angel being such a Luddite. Even in his beloved Bentley they could cut into his safe space through the radio, ruining the peace he felt until he completed whatever task they had for him to do.

But sitting in a bookshop wasn’t enough and he maybe spent half an hour there before he reluctantly departed to head back to his lonely flat. Driving himself crazy hanging around Aziraphale’s unoccupied home was not a productive use of his time. He was just going to end missing him even more. Fleeing before the feelings of emptiness overwhelmed him, he soon was back at his flat, standing on the balcony with a glass of chilled wine looking out over the nightlife. The air was muggy, bereft of a breeze. Crowley retreated inside where it was cool thanks to his unconscious warping of reality. If he wanted a cool flat, Crowley got a cool flat. 

Entering the spotless kitchen done in shades of grey, he set the wine glass down on the granite countertop near the sink before heading to his lounge to watch some television. Nothing held his interest. Giving up, he went to bed.

He slid into the expensive grey sheets, laying in the dark for the longest time, but sleep would not come to him. Tossing this way and that, he pondered trying the floor instead, but eventually he drifted off. His dreams did not make sleep easier to bear than wakefulness. 

“Angel . . .” he whispered, waking from a particularly vivid one.

Where was Aziraphale again? Edinburgh? Yes, that was it. A new church was opening that could use a blessing or two, a particularly religious woman required a brief moment of divine ecstasy and a few other minor acts of goodness needed to be performed over about a week. At least he didn’t have to ride a horse this time. 

Grabbing his mobile, he looked up how long it would take to get there. About seven hours by normal driving standards but he could shave an hour or two off of that. He glanced at the clock, noting it was around ten o’clock right now. He’d get there about three or four in the morning. Well, it wasn’t like Aziraphale slept, so did the time really matter?

_I’m going anyway._

Crowley dressed quickly, heading out to the Bentley in practically no time at all. Pulling up the route on his mobile just to make sure he remembered it correctly, he headed out of London, getting on the M1 to speed his way north. The motorway wasn’t particularly busy this time of night, making it easier for Crowley to speed along in the dark, the landscape slipping by at incredible rates. Cities, smaller towns, farm fields, areas covered in timber – the Bentley roared by them all heading closer to Edinburgh and Aziraphale. 

Crowley allowed the Bentley to do most of the driving, being caught up by his daydreams about holding Aziraphale in his arms as he stared out at the road before him. He could almost feel his heart beating against his own. It intensified the feelings of longing. 

But even Crowley couldn’t sit in a car for five to seven hours straight without becoming restless from lack of movement and a want of some coffee. He stopped in a small town, searching for a café with late night hours but nothing was open in this sleepy village. Instead he stretched his legs by sauntering through a convenient park and checked how much longer he’d be on the road traveling at the high speeds he was. It looked like maybe an hour or so. 

“Where did he say he’s staying?” Crowley muttered to himself, eager to find Aziraphale. The ache he felt for him was getting worse.

Aziraphale always stayed in a hotel when he was on missions, even though he didn’t sleep, if only because he had to have somewhere to go for the night. Usually he enjoyed the minibar, if they had one in the room, and stretched out in the bed propped up by every pillow he could get his hands on to read until he could go out to get breakfast. 

“Oh yes,” said Crowley, remembering as he stared hard at his mobile as if it could tell him. “The usual place.”

Heading back to the Bentley, he continued his journey, pushing the car up over one hundred miles an hour. The Bentley balked at this until he poured a bit more of his demonic power into it to help the engine along. He swore over the years the vehicle had become slightly sentient. It seemed to grouse about the high speeds he was asking of it.

“C’mon. It’s not like I’d ever let you fall apart. You’re fine. Just go,” he said to it over the sounds of Queen coming out of the stereo.

He had hoped to find a CD he hadn’t left in the car for a fortnight, and thought the Mozart was a recent addition. It started out as _Symphony No. 41_ but had morphed into _Somebody to Love Me_ somewhere along the way. That damn car knew what he was up to. 

“Why do you do that?” he asked it, but obviously did not receive a response.

Coming to the point where he had to get off the M1 on to the A1, his excitement rose. A switch in roads always made him feel like he was getting close to his destination. It wouldn’t be too long now. He took the exit on two wheels, tyres screeching. The Bentley sped on through the night blaring every appropriate Queen song it could. _Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy_ was currently playing. Crowley snapped off the radio.

“Enough of that.”

Finally he was there at the city limits of Edinburgh. Anticipation made his heart pound as he took a moment to see if he remembered the directions to the hotel and found that he did. It wasn’t too long before he had parked the car, rushing up to a locked door to let himself in with a small demonic miracle. Standing in the hallway with his eyes closed, he concentrated on Aziraphale’s angelic scent so he could trace it to his room.

Angelic and demonic “scents” were more than just smells. They were a kind of essence anyone of original angel stock could detect and thus know if an angel or a demon was in the area or had been recently. The scent was weaker if the supernatural being had departed, dissipating within a couple of days.

It was strong on the third floor. Bounding up the stairs, Crowley paused again to find the scent again before walking through the hallway to a room three-fourths of the way down. He stopped in front of the door, putting a slim hand on it to double check. It throbbed with Aziraphale’s presence. His heart now pounding in his chest so hard he could hear his own blood rushing in his ears, Crowley knocked.

“Aziraphale? Are you in there?”

There was no response. Where was he? 

Wishing the door unlocked, Crowley quietly entered the lit room, hearing nothing but the sound of slow breathing. His eyes fell upon the bed where Aziraphale lay, propped up by six pillows, a book in his lap. Unbelievably, he had fallen asleep there reading. Crowley smiled to see it. 

“Becoming more human, aren’t you?”

He took the book gently from Aziraphale’s limp hand before climbing into bed beside him, waking him with kisses. Aziraphale's sky blue eyes opened slowly before he pulled back from the unexpected demon sitting in his lap in surprised shock. He breathed out in relief with realization that demon was his beloved Crowley.

“Crowley? What are you doing here?” He reached out to embrace him groggily.

“Missed you.”

“I’m only here for a week,” Aziraphale replied, breathing in Crowley’s scent of sandalwood and the leather of the Bentley's interior. 

“Don’t care. I wanted to see you.” Crowley was nuzzling Aziraphale’s neck, leaving behind soft kisses as he moved down closer to the hollow of his throat, feeling the pleasurable noises Aziraphale was making through the vibrations of his Adam’s apple. "I want you, angel."

"Of course, my dear." The response was breathy, full of desire.

Crowley was loosening Aziraphale's collar for better access, undoing the bowtie, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. Aziraphale’s fingers tightened on Crowley's shoulder blades, showing his own interest in further activities. Soon, the angel was pulling Crowley’s tee-shirt off of him, leaving it in a black puddle of cloth on the carpet beside the bed. He kissed his way down Crowley’s chest, pausing to suck on one nipple while Crowley’s breath hitched, then moved on to give the other attention for a little while. 

Crowley’s hand tangled up in his curls, one slim finger twisting a lock of white blond hair around the thin knuckle. His supple spine elegantly curved as he threw his head back in response to Aziraphale’s mouth on his sensitive nipples, the angel’s tongue playing over them with the occasional interval of gentle biting. The demon’s other hand scratched along Aziraphale’s back through the fabric of his shirt, twitching now and again as desire overcame him.

The shirt soon vanished as Crowley thought of furthering their activities, joining his on the floor through magical means rather than the mechanical ones used to get his off of him. Aziraphale sat bare-chested before him all softness, plumpness and curves. Perfect for Crowley’s physical displays of affection.

He kissed down Aziraphale’s chest as soon as Aziraphale let up on his own assault of Crowley’s nipples, heading from the hollow of his throat to the bellybutton that existed only for camouflage’s sake. He rested his head against Aziraphale’s stomach, just enjoying the simple touch as Aziraphale petted through his red hair, leaning over to kiss the snake tattoo on his temple when Crowley finally raised his head.

“You are perfect, you know that, angel?”

“Mmm,” said Aziraphale. “You flatter me, my dear.”

“No.” Crowley pushed his angel over, situating himself on top of him. “But I’ll never get you to believe it’s a serious compliment. Yet would I drive several hours on a whim for just anyone?”

He didn’t give Aziraphale a chance to answer instead pressing their lips together, feeling Aziraphale melt into the wonderful touch. Their remaining clothing vanished, but neither was truly aware who perform that miracle, and the two lay there with nothing between them. Crowley rubbed against Aziraphale’s thigh, intensifying the kissing as he did. Aziraphale slid his tongue into his mouth eagerly. 

“I should hope not. Now what are you going to do?” He paused the kissing long enough to tease Crowley and found himself pinned to the bed by his wrists, his love grinning down at him.

“I thought I’d take you, innocent little angel. Make you mine.”

Aziraphale mock-struggled against him. “Oh my. Whatever shall I do?” He looked playfully thoughtful for a moment. “Actually I think I’ll enjoy it immensely. Carry on, then.”

“I’ll do just that,” Crowley murmured. “I want to taste every part of you.” 

He licked at Aziraphale, lipping sensitive areas of his body from the pit of his elbow to the curve of his stomach to the inside of his thigh. Aziraphale wiggled, giving out little moans of pleasure while trying to break free of the strong yet gentle grasp Crowley had him him.

“I want to touch you, Crowley,” he whispered, eyes bright with longing.

Crowley pulled off his wrists, only to get tackled in return. He went over backwards, missing the headboard by centimetres, Aziraphale on top of him with his hands cupping Crowley’s head while he kissed first his forehead before meandering down to his lips.

“You don’t play fair, angel.”

“Neither do you.”

Now Crowley was the one pinned by his arms to the bed and Aziraphale wasn’t about to let him up. 

“I think I’ll be the one taking you, making you mine,” he said between kisses.

He put a knee between Crowley’s thighs, separating them enough to rub it gently on more sensitive parts while Crowley groaned and writhed on the sheets. If he hadn’t have been hard before, he certainly was now. Aziraphale smiled at his success, immensely enjoying that beautiful sight.

“Now what to do with you, my oversexed demon? _Oh_!”

He wasn’t expecting Crowley to put the tip of his cock up against his arse quite like that. Crowley smiled in a knowing manner, feeling very much in control below the waist even if Aziraphale had his limbs above it effectively trapped.

“Let me inside of you,” Crowley breathed. “Ride me until you come all over my stomach. How does that sound?”

Miracling up lube in the right places, Aziraphale gently pushed down. Crowley took that as an invitation to push up in response, the two of them slowly coupling in this manner. Aziraphale closed his eyes with a hum, listening to Crowley breathing heavily as the angel started to slowly move in a gentle manner.

“You tease,” he heard Crowley say. 

This is how it went for a time – gentle and slow with fingers trailing over skin, lips leaving kisses in sensitive areas, the two drinking in all they could of the other. Physical manifestations of their love. Something shared by no other supernatural being. And while their actions were very much human, they had somehow made the act of lovemaking very much unique to them. 

Distracted by kissing, Crowley heard the distinct sound of wings beating in the air, Aziraphale having unconsciously unfurled them during the moments of passion. He glanced up to find Aziraphale looking particularly ethereal with his wings out, their perfect white feathers backlit by the lamp on the dresser behind him. They swept the room, moving in an impossible manner within too small of a space for the full wingbeats they were producing. The white feathers very nearly glowed and Crowley swore it was more because of Aziraphale’s love for him than the light behind them.

He caressed Aziraphale’s cheek with his now-free hand, wishing, hoping, almost praying that he showed him as much love in return. His own glossy black wings, if he could manifest them right now, would not shine with such light no matter how much he loved Aziraphale in return. Crowley would have to come up with other ways of displaying his adoration.

Aziraphale was beyond beautiful to look at right now all caught up in the throes of passion – an unguarded look of passion on his face, sweat making his body glow almost as much as his wings. Crowley’s slim hand reached out to reverently touch Aziraphale’s primaries as his wings, no longer beating the air, quivered in response to their physical desires.

_He is Heaven. I never completely lost it because I have him. The best part of it is still with me._

He could feel his orgasm building and try as though he may; there was no holding it back. His thrusts became more frenzied, his breaths shorter. He clung to the angel’s shoulders, digging fingers in to steady himself. 

“ _Oh, my angel . . . I love you_!” 

He could hear the angel coming with him before feeling him lay down carefully upon his chest. They were now in a warm pile of sticky wetness, sweat, a few stray feathers and each other. Too exhausted to even vanish the mess away, they lay there a few minutes, Aziraphale finally getting up the strength to winch in his wings. 

“I’m spent . . .” whispered Crowley as he weakly waved a hand to clean up the mess. 

Aziraphale patted his shoulder as he huddled down next to the demon. “Rest, my dear. You were splendid.” 

He placed a kiss on Crowley’s cheek. Crowley smiled through half-closed serpentine eyes, reaching up to vaguely pat Aziraphale's hair.

It was not long before Crowley drifted off into a pleasant, dreamless sleep waking several hours later to find Aziraphale still beside him, his whole side touching Crowley’s as he read his book while awaiting Crowley's return to the waking world.

“Good morning.” Aziraphale reached down to give him a kiss. “What would you say to heading out to find some breakfast?”

“I don’t know,” Crowley said while sitting up enough to nuzzle into Aziraphale's soft neck. “I rather like here. I might spend the next week in this hotel with you. We'll just keep repeating what we did last night as long as you’re not needed elsewhere.”

Aziraphale laughed as Crowley pulled him down once again into his embrace. “Well, one more time won’t hurt. If we miss breakfast, we can always go out for lunch.”

He pulled the bedclothes over their heads and the loving exploration began all over again. Outside the Bentley patiently waited for them.


End file.
